Evil-Spirit

How different, Gretchen, was it once with thee, When thou, still full of innocence, Here to the altar camest, And from the small and well-conn'd book Didst lisp thy prayer, Half childish sport, Half God in thy young heart! Gretchen! What thoughts are thine? What deed of shame Lurks in thy sinful heart? Is thy prayer utter'd for thy mother's soul, Who into long, long torment slept through thee? Whose blood is on thy threshold? --And stirs there not already 'neath thy heart Another quick'ning pulse, that even now Tortures itself and thee With its foreboding presence?